Just to Know
by leopleuradon
Summary: On December 30th, 1903, the Iroquois Theatre Fire in Chicago claimed over 600 lives. Of all the actors in the building, only one met his end. You can imagine who that unlucky soul was. Death can be terribly difficult when you have so much to leave behind.


**This was written for a role playing site of mine, but after some consideration I decided it applied fairly well as a stand-alone fanfiction as well. So here it is. Just a note: This (obviously) deals with character death. It's not all pleasant, and there are occasional instances of graphic...ness. Every question may not be answered by the end of the story, and that's sort of the point. Certain things should be left to the imagination.**

* * *

Jack often wondered if he ought to regret the path he'd taken in life. If he should have changed his ways while he had the opportunity. He could have been great - he could _be_ someone that was worth more than... more than what he was. He could have respect, and adoration.

The edge of his mattress sank down abruptly, and Jack kept his eyes shut, grinning to himself as a tiny frame curled against his chest. Several blond curls wedged themselves in his nose, but it had long since become endearing as, like clockwork, his nine year old visitor arrived at the crack of dawn each morning, driving away all unpleasant thoughts Jack might be inclined to wonder.

He let his mind settle again, grateful for a few more minutes of sleep, only to feel her squirm around to face him. "I had a terrible dream again." He pried open his eyes then, blearily trying to focus as well as look appropriately sympathetic. "About Mother. She said she didn't want me, Jack. Why would she say that?"

Jack groaned, fighting back a rush of irritation with regards to their mother. A silly, simple woman who had never been destined for much. Especially not since Anna's birth had rocked the household with scandal. A bastard child was, after all, something shameful indeed. Anna had been lucky that Mother had cared for her at all - Jack had listened to the woman threaten to drown the poor child on more than one occasion. "You know how ridiculous Mother is, Anna. You can't let her get to you. After all, I'm always here."

"You're not Mother."

"Mother is in England, Anna. You know that. Remember? We waved at her when the ship sailed."

"Well, why didn't she take me?" Her tone was brittle, as it often was.

Jack pushed himself up then, drawing the blanket over his shoulders to fend off the chill in the room. "I'll explain it to you when you're older, Anna. I tell you that every day. It's not something a little girl should have to worry about. You wouldn't like Mother's husband anyway. He's unpleasant and rude." His lip curled in irrepressible distaste for the man she'd married. Nothing at all like Jack could remember his father as. Charles was oversized in every way, and inclined to use his size to get his own way.

"But... I'll always get to stay with you, won't I Jack? You'll never send me away, will you?" With her lower lip trembling warningly, Anna huddled into the warmth of the blanket Jack had strewn over himself, and he hugged her fiercely, smiling with a somewhat sad expression.

"Oh, _Anna_. You can stay with me until you're old and gray, if that's what you want. But, I think it's about time we got up! Tomorrow's Christmas, after all, and I begged my way out of work _just_ to go shopping!" He stood up then, shivering as he ran out of the room, entering their tiny living area to attack the stove with the determination of a young man slowly freezing to the floor. "Ah, Chicago winters..." He murmured to himself, fanning the few tendrils of flame he can managed to spark on the logs. "Nothing like a Chicago winter..."

A snort sounded behind him, as Anna traipsed in, feet tucked snugly in a pair of treadbare slippers Jack had bought her years ago. Her hair was a rats nest of curls, but her eyes - bright blue and vivid - were perfectly alert. "Are you talking to yourself again, Jack?" She inquired.

"No, I'm talking to the stove. It's clearly not listenin- ah! There we go!" Pivoting around, Jack smiled at Anna, bending down to fuss with her hair. No one ever guessed that they were siblings, and he didn't blame them. Anna was the very image of her father, who Jack had only known distantly, with her blond ringlets and tiny, angelic little face. She was also, Jack guessed, going to be quite short. He, however, had taken after their mother; his hair was just as black as night, unmanageable on the best of days, and his face was so sharply angled he often looked like a man starved. Or, he did when coupled with his absurdly frustrating height - doorways and carriages were _not_ built for the likes of Jack, to say the very least.

Filled to the brim with pure adoration for the girl, Jack clapped his hands. "Now, sister mine, go get dressed. Something nice - you'll be spending the day with Mary, and I don't want to hear a single bad word about you!" He waved a hand at her until she entered her bedroom – hardly more than a tiny closet - then let his pleasant mask slip as he surveyed their domain. Small, mouse-infested, cheap... it was all Jack could do. He had no trade, not besides acting and singing. He did give lessons in dance on the side, but his education was everything but formal - his word didn't count for anything.

He had hope, though. He worked his hardest, and in the last few months Jack had gone from a stage hand to a member of cast. He got a place on stage, even if he didn't really get to _do_ anything. He was still there, and he could sing in the chorus. He gained some notice by getting solos in the church choir, which had, in part, helped his progression within the theater community. If Jack had lived alone, he would have been delighted.

Anna, however, kept his mind in a constant state of distress. Where would he find money each month? What did she want that other little girls had? How could he buy these things without raising alarms? Jack knew that mothers were usually the ones to do such shopping, and he had been kicked out of his fair share of shops in his day, trying to buy for Anna.

He hummed as he prepared breakfast, worrying over the future with an incessant focus he'd always had. Jack had always expected life to become easier after he adjusted to having Anna. He was... well, let's see. Jack leaned back, doing the maths in his head. He was twenty-five, and Anna was nine. He had taken her with him when she was only three. Temporarily, at first, but by the time she was five, he had been her caretaker. That meant, Jack realized with some surprise, that he had been doing this mad balancing act since he was nineteen. Six years of stress, when other young fellows had been getting married or learning the way of the world.

Maybe he should have felt angry that so much had been taken from him, but the thought of bright blue eyes and blond hair quelled those feelings before they could sink their claws in. Jack was happy with himself. He would do it all over again, if he had to.

"Jack?" He turned his head, beaming at Anna as she stood in the doorway, holding her hands over the skirt of her dress awkwardly. "Is this one good? I think I grew again. I'm sorry." Her face fell, and he couldn't help but laugh lightly, laying a hand on her head as she came closer.

Looking down, Jack winked. "Never be sorry for what you are, dear. I would rather have Mary let out a thousand hems than stop you from being who you're going to be." He spooned a portion of oatmeal into her bowl and held it out. "Now eat up. I expect every last bit to be gone!"

Yes, Jack thought as he took his time dressing, he really wouldn't miss her growing up for all the world.

* * *

"Oh, _Jack_!"

His lips quirked up in a proud smile as he held up the object of admiration. The dress was everything a girl young or old could dream for; a delicate shade of blue, with ribbons and lace and all manner of delightful details. It was made of the finest material, and was fit for a princess.

Mary ran a hand over it gently, and Jack watched vividly, with excitement thrilling down his spine. "Jack, how much did this _cost_?" She murmured, in the hushed tone of someone almost afraid to know the answer to their question. She pushed a lock of brown hair away from her eyes.

"More than your ring." He gestured to her left hand, where the tiny diamond glistened innocently. It made him happy to see it there, despite the unpleasant reputation Mary had across the city. She did, after all, argue in favor of women's rights. Jack didn't really care much for her opinions - he didn't find voting very interesting to begin with - but he _did_ love her. He looked back at the dress. "A hundred and twenty dollars." The sum escaped him with a soft breath, as he still tried to compute how much money he had spent on this one gift.

"_No_! Jack, are you _crazy_?" Mary looked at him piercingly. "How did you pay for this? You hardly have money as it is, Jack!"

"I've been teaching voice and dance on the side for two years. And when I got promoted, I put that money towards it as well." He held the dress in his arms with a soft smile. "And I've had a few other oddjobs I've been doing to make up the rest. She's been talking about having a nice dress like this since she was four, Mary. I had to." Pressing it against him, Jack did a twirl, grinning as the delicate material billowed out and imagining Anna's expression come Christmas. "I'll be all right. We can get by for a few months. If I eat less, Anna will hardly notice."

"Starving yourself for a dress?" Mary's lips trembled before parting in a grudging laugh. "Be careful, Jack, you're starting to sound perfectly _feminine_."

Swooping down for a kiss, he winked. "Ah, maybe so… but at least I can vote." Jack gave a hoot of laughter when her hand came down on his head, and he curled up on himself. "Ow! Mercy! I didn't mean it!"

"You are _wicked_!" She laughed, trying to get in a few more lighthearted slaps before letting her hand still on his arm. "I _wish_ you would let me help you, Jack. I don't need all my wages."

His eyes narrowed, feeling a familiar argument on the horizon. Mary had never understood his insistence that he provide for Anna solely, especially since their engagement. She argued that they were both too poor to have a real wedding within the next decade, and pushed that it shouldn't stop her from helping. He _did_ understand. Jack knew Mary saw Anna as both a sister and a daughter, and Anna was just as smitten with the older woman. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that Anna was _his_responsibility. Jack had been the one to pull her from their mother, and he couldn't help but feel that to let Mary help him care for her was to admit that he had been _wrong_.

Jack fought the urge to snap at Mary – she didn't understand his feelings about Anna, and he didn't know how to explain. "Don't start this now. It's going to be Christmas in," He checked his watch, which was old and ugly, but at least functional, "Ten minutes. I don't want to start it with an argument." Pressing his lips against hers, he acknowledged that this was an underhanded method of effectively silencing her, and even a year ago Jack wouldn't have dreamt of it. Honestly, she'd corrupted him. Mary was lucky he wasn't an avid church-goer. _Jack_ was lucky he wasn't an avid church-goer, or he would never get to enjoy the soft gasp of air leaving her.

His lips twisted into a grin, hands roaming to her hips in a gentle grip, dragging a finger back and forth across the fabric of her dress. "You are absolutely _wicked_!" Mary exclaimed between eager kisses.

"You, if I recall correctly, were the one against chaperones. You were the one that wanted to be _alone_." Jack argued in dark amusement as he progressed down her neck, plucking at the skin with his teeth. Never enough to leave a lasting mark, but enough to hear another tantalizing gasp. "I don't know what you expected of me. I'm only human." Eyes darkened, his grip on her tightened as he pulled her close, eager for the friction. "And you're not leaving tonight."

Her head snapped up from where it had been lolling to the side. "I don't understand how you can argue with me about who gets to open _doors_, but you insist on _this_. It could cost you your rooms, Jack!" Mary protested, though she was moving towards the door of the bedroom nevertheless, hand fixed on his collar and dragging him along.

"It's Christmas." He answered simply, glancing towards the door behind which Anna was sleeping out of compulsion. "Consider this a present. I don't ask it very often, and no one will notice tonight of all nights." Her smile was all the answer he needed, and Jack was eager to close the door behind them. While he certainly had no issue with their more physical exploits, his greatest joy was simply to sleep beside someone. To feel, just for the few hours he had for sleep, that he wasn't facing the world alone.

* * *

Anna's delighted screeches were deafening, and Jack couldn't help laughing as she ran hither and thither across the kitchen, seeing himself in every move she made. "Jack you _got it_!" She screamed in glee, holding her dress up with shining eyes, twirling with it pressed against her front. He could almost see her envisioning a grand ball, herself being the center of attention. "Oh, it's so _beautiful_! It looks just like something a _princess_ would wear!" Her voice broke, and Jack was halfway to his feet when Mary's hand grabbed the back of his shirt and dragged him back down, forcing him to wait as Anna regained her composure bit by bit. He could understand – Jack had grown up in just as much poverty, and had learned to treasure whatever he had. He would have been just as emotional had he been given something so extravagant at Anna's age. "Thank you." She choked at last. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

He caught her in a tight embrace as she fell forward into his arms, and he rubbed his hands in soothing circles against her back, pressing his face into her blonde curls and breathing in the smell of her with joy. "You're welcome, you silly thing. I would buy you a thousand dresses if only I could." Jack was rather embarrassed by how thick his voice had become, and he coughed, pushing Anna back with a broad grin that she immediately mimicked. "Now, you go with Mary and get _dressed_! I want to see how lovely you look! When we go to church, you're going to be the prettiest one there, I just know it." Wagging a finger in her face, Jack winked. "Be careful that I don't have to chase off any young men, little miss!"

She ran into her room then, and Jack pulled Mary to her feet as he stood. He was surprised by her embrace, but he returned it comfortably, resting his chin on her head, heart thrumming with joy. "Santa Claus couldn't have done it better himself." She murmured, looking up and kissing his chin. "I'm sorry I called you crazy."

Jack beamed down at her. "Well, you weren't _wrong_. But the crazy's just part of the charm." He ran a hand through her hair, finding himself a bit starstruck by the morning's excitement until Anna's voice rang out from her bedroom. "_Stop kissing and help me get dressed, Mary!_"

Jolting back a step each, they shared a laugh. "The queen awaits." Jack chuckled. "You go help her. I'm going to make hot chocolate."

* * *

Christmas was a long affair, but joyous. Standing with the church choir, looking out over the hundreds of people gathered for the special service, Jack caught Mary and Anna, the latter looking as primped as a peacock, looking from side to side every few seconds to see if anyone had noticed her dress. He was pleased that Mary had the sense to quietly remind her to pay attention, but his heart still fluttered with joy that he had made such an impact on her.

He liked that they got to sing Christmas hymns. They were upbeat and happy for the most part, and Jack eagerly did his part as the go-to soloist of the choir, joyfully belting out each song, whether he sang alone or in the group. He saw eyes light up, and for the most popular hymns the majority of the congregation sang along with enthusiasm, united for the holidays. It was magic, Jack thought. Pure magic.

After the service, Jack took Anna to visit their friends across the city. She pranced down the sidewalks, glowing with pride as she garnered compliments for her dress. She looked like a walking doll, passersby continued to tell him. _Just_ like a little porcelain doll. Wasn't he lucky to have such a pretty daughter?

Jack was used to being Anna's assumed father. He often didn't correct them in their assumptions, finding that a widowed father was able to gain access to stores easier than a guardian brother. Anna, however, resented the mistake and was quick to correct anyone that made assumptions about Jack with a protectiveness that amused him to no end. She had only poor experiences with fathers, he knew. She saw the comment as a grievous insult to his character, which was the only reason that Jack had never tried to explain that he was _flattered_ to have anyone believe he was her father. Anna would never understand it.

By the time they returned home, the sun had long set and Jack was carrying Anna, her head resting against his shoulder drowsily and her arms drawn up, clutching his jacket around her. Jack hummed as he ascended the steps to their meager home and pushed open the door, letting it close behind him as he marched to her bedroom, setting Anna on the bed as he pulled out one of her threadbare nightgowns from the dresser.

Helping her undress was like working with a doll as her eyes continued to slide shut. Jack found himself thinking about how many times in the past he had had to dress and undress her, and as he turned away to allow her to slip off her Christmas gift and pull on the infinitely less glamorous gown, Jack felt a stab of sadness that she had grown so much. She was a little lady now, and soon enough she would be getting chased by boys. She would eventually be courted. She would marry, and have her own children. Somehow, it broke Jack's heart.

"Jack?"

Her tired voice snapped him out of his reverie, and he looked to where she was already under the covers, staring up at him in exhaustion. "Thank you for the dress. I'm sorry I got sleepy." Anna yawned. "Where did Mary go?"

"Oh, you silly thing." Jack sat on the bed gently, running a hand through her hair. "Don't ever apologize for something so foolish. You know what? I'm just as sleepy as you are. Truth." Teasing a tangle out of her curls, Jack smiled softly. "Mary went home. I escorted her while you were asleep. She said goodnight, and that you were the prettiest girl in the city." He tapped her nose with a broad grin.

Anna smiled back but then a frown crept into her expression. "Is Mary going to be my mother?" She asked suddenly, in a solemn tone.

Jack tilted his head to study her, wondering on his answer for several long moments. "That's your choice, Anna. She's going to be here, and she loves you very much." His grin was back, "Not as much as_me_!" His smile shrank slightly as he ran his fingers through her hair. "She'll be like me. We're here to be whatever you want us to be." After a moment, Jack carried on in a tentative tone. "She's not replacing you."

"But you love her." It didn't sound accusatory, but simply confused.

Jack sighed to himself. "It's a different kind of love. You'll know about it if you ever find a horrible boy to marry when you're seventy-five." She giggled. "Now, enough of this serious business. Are you excited for the play in a few days?"

Anna nodded eagerly. "I'll wear my dress again!" She assured him. "Will I see you on the stage?"

He shrugged. "We'll see if you can spot me, won't we?" He moved to stand up then, but a small hand curled around his wrist, pulling Jack back down.

"Can you read to me? Just for a little while?"

Jack smiled, bending to the stack of books beside the bed. "I suppose I could do that. Where should we go tonight?"

She nestled down into the mattress, pulling up her hands to pillow her head. "Wonderland. I want to know what happens."

He loved reading to Anna. Jack had fun doing the many voices of characters, and on other occasions he would even stand up to act out the scenes. Tonight, however, neither had the energy for such a show and so Jack simply leaned back against the pillows and pulled up his feet, letting Anna snuggle into his chest, staring at the pages as he began.

_"The Cat only grinned when it saw Alice. It looked good- natured, she thought: still it had VERY long claws and a great many teeth, so she…"_ Although they were both drained from the day, Jack stayed up for a good many hours reading to Anna all of Alice's adventures in Wonderland, smiling as he occasionally took a moment to stroke her hair, or to make some small comment on the book. He had read it a dozen times before, forever entranced by the mad world Alice had stumbled upon. He had identified with Alice as a child, living a life of inconsistencies and constant confusion. Anna, however, seemed partial to the Cheshire Cat as they ambled along the plot. Jack didn't judge her for her favorites, but he couldn't help but grumble that _he_ didn't like the Cat. He still made a special point to give it its own special voice when it came up again.

When she fell asleep, he marked the page they had ended on and stood up, carefully tucking the raggedy blanket around her with a loving gaze. He would have to finish reading the story to her another night. They had a few years yet before she outgrew such things, and there was no rush.

Jack never finished reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland to her, and until her dying day Anna refused to read so much as another word of the novel.

* * *

The Iroquois Theater was something of a dream to Jack. It was new, and devastatingly modern, and the productions were notoriously difficult to get a part in, which only bolstered his enthusiasm as he stood in the wings to watch the first act of _Mr. Bluebeard_. A new theater with a new musical.

From where he was tucked away, Jack could see the enormous crowd in the seats. He'd heard someone say that there were over two thousand people in attendance. If it was true, then this was the biggest audience Jack had ever performed before, even if he only had a small role. His eyes flew over the balcony seats, squinting as he tried—_there they were_!

Anna and Mary were sitting on one of the steps, as were dozens of other women and children, and Jack had to smile to himself when Mary leaned over to whisper something that drew a laugh from Anna. He didn't know why, but the image made his heart beat in a rapid staccato. His eyes burned for a moment, and Jack fancied that things could possibly be looking up. Money didn't compare to what he was seeing, and what he was feeling.

Act One was fun to watch, even from backstage. He passed the time with quiet jokes between castmates and one or two ferocious, silent wrestling matches that had somehow become the norm. Jack, for his part, had never meant to start that tradition. He meant to mind his own business, but some time ago a round of lighthearted nudges had escalated, and now it seemed to be expected. Personally, he hardly cared as long as his costume wasn't ripped in the process.

The intermission between Act One and Act Two had Jack creeping into the main foyer of the theater, cutting through the crowds to where he had agreed to meet Anna and Mary. He had said that he might stay backstage, but something compelled him to go find them, and when he caught sight of Anna's curls he felt some tension leaving his body. It was a peculiar thing, but he had felt for a moment like he might find them in some sort of trouble.

"Jack!" He laughed when Anna charged forward, and caught her in his arms, pulling her to him in a tight embrace. "I didn't see you! Neither did Mary!"

Mary followed her closely, keeping a respectful distance that was only expected in public. Jack felt a surge of irritation at that – not towards Mary, but towards the whole of society for making things so difficult. "Ah, don't worry." He said brightly, adjusting the ribbon in Anna's hair in the same subconscious gesture as a fussy parent. "I won't be on until the middle of the second act. So keep an eye out then. Are you liking it?"

Anna nodded eagerly and began to babble about her favorite parts so far. Jack, however, was studying Mary with a bizarre feeling of dread, memorizing her features as well as he could. From her plain brown hair to her radically shining eyes. He could almost count her freckles, even from a distance. Usually, in these instances Jack felt sublimely lucky for having met her, but now he could only wrestle his uncertainty to a manageable level. "When you go back in, go to the dress circle. You'll both be able to get in." Jack said without realizing he had even spoken aloud. Surprise colored his face for a moment, but he couldn't fight off the feeling that this was a necessity. "It's a better view than the gallery, and there were quite a few empty seats last I checked. You'll have so much more fun there!"

"Isn't that a lie?" Anna asked seriously, looking concerned. "It's not very truthful to sit somewhere else." Mary was silent, simply looking at Jack in confusion.

He laughed, waving a hand as if to brush their concerns away. "Don't be _silly_! It's not bad as long as you're not taking someone else's seat." Jack looked up at Mary and his expression hardened to a degree. "Please sit there." He pleaded quietly.

"Won't we be lucky, Anna?" Mary chimed in immediately, smiling winningly. "Why, I bet we'll have the best seats in the whole theater." She looked at Jack again and he found himself almost cringing beneath the weight of her stare. How could he explain that he didn't _know_ why he felt the need to move them from the gallery? Somehow, the enormous crowds that had been exciting him all evening now struck a chord in Jack that was infinitely less pleasant.

Looking back at Mary, he could only shrug with a rather sheepish expression. He was being ridiculous, he knew. The theater was brand new, and it was _Christmas_. Jack couldn't imagine that anything bad would happen here. Not tonight of all nights.

* * *

Jack was not a man easily frightened. In fact, it was next to never that he was ever truly scared, but when fire caught his eyes and he stared out into the crowd – what a _crowd_ – he felt his heart beating in his throat. His hands clenched the material of his costume, worrying the fabric between his restless fingers as the fire curtain was lowered. It would be fine, Jack tried to comfort himself. They were prepared for this sort of thing.

But the fire curtain snagged. It caught on _something_, and soon the blaze was so hot that Jack found himself sweating profusely through his shirt. Maybe it was the heat. More likely, it was the terror of seeing so many children looking up at the stage in confusion. _So many children_. Why were there so very many children?

He followed the lead actor on stage without thought, joining him in attempting to calm the frantic mob that was beginning to form, even as burning scenery shattered to the stage on either side. Jack's eyes scanned the crowd desperately, trying to remember where he had sent Mary and Anna – in such a panic, it was dreadfully difficult to have any memory of something so silly as _seating_. "Please! You have to calm down!" Jack pleaded uselessly against the herd of patrons, one hand moving to his face to ward off the smoke that had begun to filter into the theater.

A hand latched onto his arm, pulling him backwards towards the actor's exit. Words were being shouted in his ear as Jack stared out into the milling audience, eyes watering for more than just the smoke. It wasn't fair. They had their own secret exit to the building – what did those people have? "Let go of me!" Suddenly spurred into action, Jack ripped his arm out of the man's grip, wheeling on him with a gleam of near madness in his eyes. "The only family I _have_ is out there! Let me go, or I'll _make you_." His voice didn't rise any more than necessary to be heard over the fire, but his meaning was crystalline, and the pressure on his sleeve vanished immediately.

Jack gave himself no time to think before he leapt off the stage and into the pit. If he had thought about it, he suspected that his fear would catch up to him. He would be frozen in his tracks if he took the time to _see_ what was truly happening. Instead, he dove into the frantic crowd, abandoning all manner of chivalry as he shoved bodies away, fighting towards the dress circle furiously. His mind raced towards Anna. Mary… as much as it pained Jack, he knew that Mary was capable of defending herself. She was an adult, and could withstand the weight of this mob. Anna was so small and fragile… she needed him more.

It was finding her that would be difficult. She was a tiny waif of a thing, lost in a sea of taller, stronger people. Jack felt a cry crawling up his throat as he raced from place to place, heart beating too fast to possibly keep going and eyes alight with the spreading fire, which had become an inferno rapidly. He had to find her. He _had_ to, or he would never allow himself to leave this place alive.

"Jack!"

The voice was so small and weak that Jack may very well have missed it, had he not been so carefully listening for it. Instead, his head shot up rapidly and his hands began to tremble in relief at the sight of Anna emerging from beneath the staircase, bruised and dented, but in one piece. One piece which Jack grabbed desperately and held against him, smothering kisses on her head in blind relief. "What happened to Mary?" He asked, almost dreading the answer.

"I don't know." Anna sobbed. "I don't _know_. Everyone was pushing me and I fell down. My dress got ripped, Jack!" Her sobbing increased, and Jack found himself losing his patience as it distracted him from finding them some escape. "My dress ripped. What am I going to wear now? My dress ri—_ouch_!" She was in shock, Jack reminded himself, even as his palm tingled slightly from the light slap. He had never agreed with corporal punishments, having had to endure more than his fair share as a boy, but he didn't know how else to draw Anna's attention away from her dress. "We have to go, Annie. We can worry all about your dress when we get home, I promise. Maybe we can mend it, but we have to go." Ash was swirling in the air, even in the small space between their faces, and Jack pulled off the overcoat he had been wearing as part of his costume, wrapping her little body in it as he stood up.

They had to leave, but how? Where? Jack's arms clenched around Anna's form as he hesitated, beginning to take in the carnage around them. He suddenly became aware that he was standing on a body. He. Was. Standing. On…

He almost fell in his scramble to move, and Jack could feel his breath picking up, becoming desperate pants of terror as he made for the stairs, seeing more bodies as he climbed. Most were alive, suffering broken bones and other injuries from the chaos. "Don't look." Jack muttered to Anna, "Don't open your eyes until I tell you to. We're okay." His voice caught then, but there was no time for him to let his emotions catch up to him. Jack had to move. He could hear a new howl of fire behind them and he ran all the faster, gritting his teeth as the heat licked his back, melting his shirt into his skin. He wondered distantly if that would be able to be fixed. It didn't seem to hurt. Maybe it did.

"Shh-shhhh-shhhhh…" He soothed as he sprinted, staring around them in confusion, finding his brain foggy and unable to remember where he had been running. What were they doing? Where were they, even? "Jack?" He looked down at Anna, uncertainty etched into his face. "Jack, we have to go, what are you doing? Jack?" They… yes, of course. Yes, they had to keep going. If only there were less smoke.

By the time they had reached the back of the theater, Jack realized that there was nowhere _to_ go. The doors were deadly traps and loaded down with bodies all melted together, blackened beyond recognition. Had Mary been one of them? He couldn't tell, and Jack didn't know if he could handle the knowledge. Not now. Besides, it didn't matter as long as there was no escape. "It's okay. We're all right, Annie." Jack crooned, holding her tight against his chest as he did a circle, taking in their burning surroundings, looking for _anything_.

Then he saw one of the windows – not designed to open, he knew, but in the blaze, surely it had been weakened? He could break it, and it was just big enough for Anna to fit through. She might cut herself doing it, but Jack could live with that. A smile flashed over his face as he thought that. _Live_. He wouldn't live for long anyway. Anna would only fit through that opening with a hope and a prayer – Jack wouldn't even get his shoulders through.

When he went to set Anna down, her hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him towards the ground. "Don't leave me!" She screamed. "Please don't leave!"

"I'm just going to break the window. We don't have time, Anna. Let go." He felt cruel, shoving her tiny hands away as he did, but Jack needed his arms free as he rounded on the window, gathering his breath before charging, ramming his shoulder against the frame and feeling it give just slightly. Starting over, Jack drove his shoulder forward again, this time feeling a distinct bend in the wooden framework. The third time, much to his shock, the entire window fell outwards, shattering against the ground below and drawing the attention of the crowd outside. He felt his head beginning to clear as he caught his breath in the icy air, and Jack waved an arm.

Bending down again, Jack gathered Anna in his arms, suddenly aware of how much everything _hurt_. "You're going to be okay now. These fellows are going to catch you, I promise." Jack whispered encouragingly, grinning broadly as he held her. "Isn't that _exciting_? How many people have ever been tossed out a window? I've always threatened to do it to you, and here's my chance!" Leaning out, he wasn't surprised to feel her arms around his neck again, holding on desperately.

"You said you weren't going to leave me!" She was still speaking in a high-pitched scream, and Jack winced, though that was more for the burned skin on the back of his neck, which he could see coming off on her sleeves. He tried to brush the flesh away before Anna had time to realize. "Jack, you said you weren't leaving me!"

"I'm not." His body hurt, and the heat was increasing on his back. "I promise, I'm going to jump right after you. We'll see who looks more _amazing_, okay? Make sure you go look for Mary when you can, so… so she can judge." His expression was clouded for a moment, but then Jack laughed as brightly as ever. "It'll be great!"

Pulling her in for one last hug, he didn't give himself any time to reconsider. "You're going to be okay, I promise." Jack murmured. And then he let go, watching her tumble through the sky and releasing the breath he had been holding when the men caught her between them like a sack of potatoes. Seeing her blue eyes on him, Jack waved jauntily, bracing his arms as he started to pull himself up, hardly believing his luck that the frame had fallen out with the window. Without it, he could just squeeze it. He would be home by nine, assuming he didn't need to get his back che-

The weight of the beam brought Jack down to the floor so hard that he could _hear_ the sound of his jaw breaking against it. He let out a choked breath as more of the ceiling fell, burning him wherever it hit, even as he frantically tried to brush his hands around his head. He had to get up. He had to.

Jack strained against the ceiling beam with any and all strength that he had, but it didn't so much as budge. His hands were trapped beneath it, burning so slowly that he could feel every second of it. His legs… he couldn't feel his legs. Why was that? They had to be _there_. He couldn't really be stuck here to die. He had a life to lead. He had Anna to care for. He had to save his money so he could have a wedding. He and Mary were going to have children of their own, and Jack was going to become famous. He was not going to die here, alone and smelling his own body as it burned like a giant candle. He refused to die.

It was then that the fear hit him, harder than it ever had before. It was his inability to move that put it in Jack – he had always been moving, even in his sleep. He _dreamed_ in movement. To have his limbs crushed and pinned, with only his head able to twist back and forth… it terrified him beyond reason and Jack felt a sob ripping from his throat as he thrashed. It was suddenly very _real_. Death had always been abstract to him. Death wasn't something that anyone under fifty had a reason to dread, especially not someone like Jack. "Please, please, please don't let me die...!" Who was he pleading with? God? Hadn't God just burned down a theater with two thousand people locked inside? What did Jack expect_God_ to do for him in this situation?

Crying did him no good either, as any tears he had had long since dried up. Drenched in pain, Jack had nothing to provide relief. He could only lie in his agony, his desperate little prayer slowly, gradually becoming a drawn-out keening wail. He suddenly begged for a release from it. All at once, Jack wanted to die. He couldn't imagine that it was possible to even _be_ alive any longer. His eyes had long since failed. He couldn't move. He could only feel the sensation of fire burning away everything that he had ever been. Somewhere, in a mad little corner of his mind, Jack entertained the idea that he at least had a very stirring argument towards fire being the worst possible way to die. Who would ever contest him?

When he did, at last, feel himself slipping away towards some land of white mist, Jack was almost amused yet again to hear a voice outside his body. A strangled, inarticulate gasp for air, followed by a man's tone… "My God, is it _alive_?"

No, Jack thought in bitter amusement. They were a bit late for that one. He was beyond dead. He was a cloud of vapor, floating here and there about the universe with not a care in the world. He didn't argue when he began to lose his memories of what life had been like. On Earth. In Chicago. With Anna. With Mary. He let it all go, but only so far. When it was threatened to be taken away entirely, Jack began to wrestle for the memories back. He didn't want to never remember them again – he wanted to have them there in his mind. Not so close as to hurt him when he thought of them, but close enough to at least _know_. He didn't want to start anew, without any idea of where he had come from. That was all he asked… just to know.

He just wanted to know.

* * *

Opening his eyes for the first time, Jack grimaced in the dim light of the… wherever he was. He squinted to make out shapes, wondering why his head felt so… wobbly. "What… is this?" His gaze drifted down to his hands, observing in a rather disjointed way that they had no flesh. Just bones. How odd. Was he a skeleton, then?

"Do you know your name?" The voice came from the left, but he didn't feel like looking yet. Instead, Jack continued to focus on his own hands, tracing the bones and feeling oddly amazed that he could even _feel_. How could he feel without skin?

"Jackskellington." It came out as one word, torn as he was between trying to answer the question and trying to discover himself. Jack shook his skull, sitting up groggily. "Jack." He repeated. "I… don't know my other name. I'm just Jack." He finally looked up, and was somehow unsurprised by the strange assortment of creatures around him. It felt right. _This_ felt right.

Something collided with him then, and Jack found himself tumbling head over heels, landing with a thump on his back as a walking burlap sack strode past, guffawing loudly. "Can't even remember his_name_! Hah! Pay up, y'all, I said this one wasn't gonna be _special_!"

There were several things that angered Jack immediately. First of all, the sack had laughed _at_ him. Already, Jack could feel a certain deepset pride roaring out against that. Secondly, it was mocking him for not remembering his name – something which was already upsetting Jack. Third, and finally, it had _dared_ to imply that he was not _special_.

His hand had grabbed a loose string trailing behind the sack before Jack could even formulate a thought, and he found himself yanking it back as hard as he could, watching a tear spread up the seam of the creature, letting loose a wave of bugs and drawing a scream from him.

Pushing himself to his feet, Jack dusted himself off, eyes narrowed. "My name is Jack Skellington, thank you very much. Someone ought to help him before he's nothing but a sack… though I think that might be an improvement." He turned towards the nearest fellow – someone nearly as tall as he was, though if Jack had to guess he would say this one was made entirely of wood, with a crookedly smiling pumpkin balanced precariously on a thin, spindly neck.

"You don't know how much most of us have wanted to do that, Jack. My name is Cedric Samhain. I'm the Pumpkin King." The pumpkin head grinned wider, and Jack felt compelled to match it, catching the twig hand and shaking it firmly. "Welcome to Halloween Town."


End file.
